McKenzie has declared that he does not want to grow up to be a man. Signs of puberty appear and McKenzie begs Mom to schedule a visit to the clinic Jessica recommended. Will McKenzie get past the gatekeepers? Kaylie's remarks and McKenzie's increasing femininity lead to harassment incidents at school.

Gatekeepers and Harassment

Santa Carla is typical Utah small town where gossip spreads like wildfire and Mom has been terrified that my dressing as a girl could become an issue in the divorce and custody decision. As a result I she has insisted that I be closeted with only a small circle, Aunt Karen, cousin Kaylie, my friend StacyLyn, and StacyLyn's immediate family, knowing the full truth about me. The experience of going to back Bryce Canyon on spring break and openly presenting as a girl had been empowering. Away from home I had the marvelous experience of being a girl in the anonymity of a national park. The goal of the trip had been for me to meet StacyLyn's transgendered father 'Aunt Jessica."

Unfortunately one of my teachers, Ms. Byland, had also been visiting Bryce Canyon at the same time and had seen me in wearing a very provocative feminine outfit at the visitor center. The next week she came over to our house for a conversation with Mom. Ms. Byland expressed concern about my secretiveness, and said people in Santa Carla would respect me if I were open and honest about my femininity. Mom felt that my coming out now was too much of a risk, and was especially concerned because Ms. Byland was a relative of Judge Coleman.

In the last few weeks I had started noticing the onset of puberty. Trouble hitting high notes when singing, and hair in places where I used to have none were terrifying signs. Earlier this evening I had an intense talk with Mom about my concerns over approaching puberty.

**************
After talking with Mom about puberty I went to bed afraid that she was not going to be able to help me in time. I thought about Stacy's 'Aunt Jessica' and the struggles she had to make to look presentably female: the effort she put into speaking softly and gently to mask her deep voice; the heavy makeup she wore to hide the texture of her skin; the nail extensions that pulled attention away from her thick fingers. I wanted to grow up looking like a genetic woman, not a tranny. On the other hand, Jessica seemed to be accepted for who she is now by her current circle of friends. Jessica had talked to me at length about gender treatment options and emphasized how wonderful her support community was. I fell asleep troubled and confused.

When I came home from school the next day Mom seemed a bit agitated. She told me to hurry up and change to my after school clothes then we would talk. I tried to hurry, but I didn't rush. I felt that for this conversation I needed to look as much as a girl as possible. I picked my most heavily padded bra, not a sports bra like I normally wore around the house, and put on a skirt, not my usual jeans. I carefully brushed my hair, put in a couple of barrettes, and even applied a light touch of makeup. When I came back into the living room I saw she had some road and city street maps on the coffee table. She checked out my appearance as I walked in with my best hip swing.

"McKenzie, I had a long talk with Aunt Karen and she convinced me that we need to take the risk and go the clinic that Jessica recommended."

I threw my arms around her. "Thank you."

"I called the clinic and they said you needed a professional referral before they schedule an appointment. I called Jessica and she gave me the name of a transgender-care clinical social worker who will interview you by phone tomorrow. Come home right after school. With the time zone difference it will still be working hours where she is."

Jessica had warned me about professionals who acted as gatekeepers. Fortunately the tone of the call indicated that this social worker was very sympathetic. She explained that she always preferred to interview in person, but understood my situation with travel. After asking a lot of personal questions she told me to write a 'why I feel I am a girl' personal essay and email it to her for the files. She also asked for some photos of me both in my boy school clothes and as a girl.

As soon as I finished the phone call I sent a message to StacyLyn. An hour later I had an email from Jessica which started with 'be honest and truthful' then followed with a long list of buzz words that she recommended I work into the essay. I spent the rest of the evening working harder than I ever had on a school writing assignment.

The next night Mom and I spent a lot of time going through the photos she had on her computer. As we looked for the best ones to send I realized that Ms. Byland had been right. The pictures of me as a boy consistently showed someone whose body language and expression indicated shyness, withdrawal, and discomfort: arms crossed defensively, focus downward, standing away from the others. In contrast the pictures of me as a girl that she had taken at Bryce Canyon showed someone happy, confident, and close to her friends. Mom was hesitant to send the girl-mode pictures to a stranger, but I insisted that we needed to cooperate with the social worker. Besides the social worker had promised to treat everything as confidential.

Two days after emailing the essay and photos Mom told me that the social worker had sent a referral to the clinic recommending they see me as soon as possible.

This was fantastic. "Have you called the clinic yet?"

"Yes, they were will be able to see you in two weeks. You are just going to have to be a patient girl until then. I am just going to have you take an unexcused absence from school. I decided I did not even want to tell them I was taking you to a doctor's appointment. The less people know the better."

I hurried to my room and called Kaylie, then got on my computer and sent a message to StacyLyn. This was news to share. The rest of the evening my mind was on the upcoming clinic visit. I just knew things would work out.

*****************
For the trip to the clinic in California I wanted to be a feminine as possible in both external appearance and mental state. I had pressured Mom to help me get on puberty blockers, and I sure didn't want to mess things up in any way. During the waiting time before the clinic visit I tried to put my mind in 100% girl mode. I made a real effort to avoid doing anything masculine and spent my free time reading girls' magazines and chic-lit fiction. I must have packed and repacked a dozen times while waiting to leave. Kaylie was helpful with fashion tips and loaned me a few items. StacyLyn shared the excitement and kept sending me web links to helpful sites so I would know as much as possible before talking to the clinic. The day before I left I got a 'good luck' email from Jessica.

I was giddy with excitement when Mom ushered me into the car to leave. Even though it was before dawn she kept the garage door closed until I was safely in the car and shielded by the tinted back windows. The drive to California was uneventful and I spent the time alternating between homework and looking with envy at fashion magazines. I had a hard time thinking about school work given the prospect of getting medical help to prevent going into male puberty. After we were well away from Santa Carla Mom relaxed a bit. The occasional rest stops and restaurant lunch were my first opportunities since the spring break trip to Bryce Canyon to be in public as a girl. We arrived late, checked into a motel, and got to bed early so we could be up and to the clinic on time in the morning.

The clinic visit quickly became traumatic. Detailed interviews and medical histories were followed by a physical exam, blood samples, and more interviews. Everyone seemed professional but skeptical. It seemed they were asking the same questions over and over. Their attitude was making me nervous. There were interviews with the both me and Mom together and other interviews with each of us separately. Toward the end of the day Mom and I were ushered into the office of the clinic's medical director. I nervously sat down being careful to smooth my skirt underneath me and pull my knees together.

"Mrs. Clark, McKenzie Clark, good afternoon. I have gone through all the charts prepared by my staff today. According to the reports your presenting complaint was 'gender dysphoria and anxiety about onset of puberty.' Although McKenzie presents some of the well-recognized signs of being transgendered, I am frankly not convinced."

My heart sank. The clinic was not going to help me after all. Jessica warned me about doctors who claim to treat gender issues but instead play the all-powerful gatekeeper. But this was the clinic Jessica had recommended! I had not expected these people to be a roadblock. In my excitement since Mom made the appointment I never imagined the gate being slammed shut.

For what seemed like forever the doctor continued to comment on all the reasons why he was skeptical about my case: the recent onset of crossdressing coincident with my father's abandonment, the absence of extreme feminine self-expression at an early age. I had given honest answers to the interview questions. Now it seemed that all the efforts I had made over the years to please my father by trying to obey his demands to 'act like a man' were being used as evidence against me. The doctor expressed concern about my being closeted and Mom's secretiveness and said this made him suspect that my current behavior was more 'play acting' than real. In effect, my obeying Mom by not openly displaying femininity at school and around Santa Carla was more evidence against me.

"Moreover, cases like this require psychological evaluation over an extended period. We pride ourselves as being a leading clinic in transgender care and protect our reputation by being meticulous in evaluation of what is in the best interest of each patient. What I recommend is scheduling a complete follow-up evaluation once a year through high school. That will give us a much better basis for evaluating any possible ..."

Follow up next year? I couldn't wait that long. Every day I expected my voice to start changing. I tried to set these thoughts aside and listen to what the doctor was saying.

"... so there are a lot of possible directions for McKenzie. However, I do note that he is very concerned about going into male puberty in the near future. While I do not support rushing into transgender therapy I have also seen the devastating effects that body changes can have on an adolescent's mental health. I have noted McKenzie's attempts at self-medication with herbal and over-the-counter substances, and regard this as a high risk of progressing to black-market hormone therapy, a very dangerous practice. Also, gender confusion in teens often leads to tragedy, including suicide. As a doctor I have a duty to prevent harm ..."

I couldn't hold back any longer. "Doctor, are you going to help me or not?"

"Don't interrupt. Listen to what the doctor is saying."

The doctor looked at me with an expression of concern. "As I was saying, I want to prevent harm, and McKenzie is clearly at great risk. Fortunately, drugs are available that can delay puberty temporarily, and their effects are fully reversible. Stop taking the drugs and normal puberty begins, just delayed. In the future, and depending on further evaluation of your best interests, you can enter puberty under the control of either your own natural hormones, or under the control of prescribed cross-gender hormones. McKenzie, I am willing to consider drugs that can 'freeze' your development for a while and give you time to think before you have to make a permanent decision."

I took a deep breath of relief once I understood what he was saying. The clinic was going to help me after all. "Thank you," was all I could say.

"I am greatly concerned that you have not involved your usual physician at home. These drugs are powerful and require monitoring. I need you to promise to come back here next month. We will start with two powerful anti-androgens as pills. We can also put you on monthly injections of Lupron. Since your home doctor is not involved, you can get your blood test to monitor the effects of the drugs when you come for each monthly injection. It is best to think this over. If you want to start the injections come back tomorrow morning, tell the receptionist, and my nurse will take care of it. I will write the prescriptions now."

As we left Mom told me she was concerned about the need to make monthly trips back to the clinic and the cost of the drugs. This was obviously not something she could put on her medical insurance policy. We discussed my situation over dinner and she finally agreed to pay cash out of my college savings fund. We got the prescriptions filled at a pharmacy near the clinic the next morning then went to the clinic for my first injection.

I headed home with a sore behind and a lot of concern about Mom's willingness to continue making these clinic visits.

***********

Fortunately, the next month went quickly, and it was time for another visit to the clinic. Mom again expressed concern about the time and cost, but we went. The clinic personnel were efficient. I got a blood test and my next injection and we were back on our way home. Mom commented that this was a ridiculous amount of driving to get a shot. We talked about it a lot since we had plenty of time.

During the silences in the conversation I kept thinking back to a conversation I had with Aunt Karen several months ago. She told me that Mom was overly worried about custody and her emotions were getting in the way of her making sound decisions about me. Aunt Karen had also said that Mom had always been an insecure and indecisive person, and that she depended on her big sister Karen for advice. At the time I had not understood what Aunt Karen was getting at, but gradually it was starting to make sense.

As the miles went by I also thought back to the conversation I had with StacyLyn's 'Aunt Jessica' at Bryce Canyon. We had been talking about being closeted. Jessica told me that being partially or totally closeted was very common. One remark she made seemed to explain a lot about Mom and her concerns.

"A lot of feminine men sped their entire lives in the closet because they are terrified of the reactions of others if they came out. When young they worry about parents, siblings, and school mates. When older they worry about spouses, employers and neighbors. They use this fear as an excuse to avoid being true to their real selves."

The monthly trips to California continued for the rest of the school year, and it was getting harder to keep my situation hidden. The puberty blocking drugs meant that I continued to have a little-boy build and a high soprano voice. With each month that made me more of an outlier at school as the other boys in my class continued to mature on a normal schedule. My 'boy clothes' definitely included unisex and my pushing boundaries lead occasionally to frankly flamboyant choices. Between my appearance and the fact that I tended to hang out with Kaylie and her friends I was increasingly the target of both nasty comments and jokes that bordered on outright harassment.

A growing problem was that Kaylie wanted to also spend time with other girls. Once I started dressing Kaylie had dropped out of her dance class so she could be with me after school. I really appreciated that big favor. Kaylie's need to spend time doing girl things with her friends left me with two choices: be in girl-mode but lonely at home, or dress as a boy and hang out as much as possible with Kaylie and her friends. What I really wanted was to just be another girl who did fun things with her friends. For now I had to be patient.

**************
One afternoon Kaylie and I were walking back across the athletic field after gym class when we passed some of the older girls practicing cheerleader routines. They looked amazing with their shapely but muscular bodies wearing tight short-shorts and sports bras. My emotional reaction to their appearance was envy and not sexual attraction. Kaylie must have read my mind.

"I bet you wish you could wear an outfit like that."

"Quiet, we are at school."

"Come on, don't you want a nice pony tail and bouncy breasts?

Just then I noticed two boys following us close enough to overhear Kaylie. One was the Gary, the son of the ultra conservative, traditional family values gadfly Mrs. Russica. The other was Greg Coleman. I wasn't sure how he was related to the judge, but all the Colemans in town descended from a single pioneer family.

"Does pretty little McKenzie want to be a girl?"

We ignored them and kept walking.

"I bet McKenzie is going to try out for cheerleading, there is no way he could make the team in a boy sport."

"He'd look cute in a short skirt."

"McKenzie, can you wiggle your behind a bit more when you walk?"

After a few more taunts Gary grabbed my arm from behind. Fortunately one of the teachers was near by.

"Gary Russica, you know this school has a no harassment policy. Get away from them."

Kaylie and I headed into the school building. I was afraid to go into the boy's locker room to change but had no choice. I rushed in and out, then headed to class. That evening Kaylie and I had a serious talk.

"I'm sorry about what happened today."

"Kaylie, you need to be careful what you say at school.

"You know my teasing is all in fun. I like you and like your girl side too. Sometimes I just can't stop myself from saying something I think is funny."

"But those boys overheard your stupid comment after gym class, and look what almost happened. You know how concerned Mom is about community rumors. Gary's mother is always writing letters to the editor and posting on blogs, and Greg is a Coleman."

"I said I'm sorry. I'll be more careful from now on. Promise."

We shook hands. I decided that was too masculine a gesture and pulled her into a hug.

***********
One good thing did come out of the harassment incident -- it gave me the courage to suggest something daring to Mom. Kaylie had been talking about doing the school's cheer camp during the summer then trying out for the team in the fall. I knew this was something she wanted, but also knew it would mean I would have less time to spend as a girl with her and have more time girl time sitting at home alone. Eventually I realized that if people at school already considered me a big sissy then it would not be any worse if I took dance or cheerleading lessons with Kaylie. After all, there are male dancers and cheerleaders around.

Ms. Byland was the coach for cheer camp and she told me that if I ever needed help at school I should talk to her. When I approached her about the idea of my doing cheer camp over the summer break she was immediately supportive.

"It would be really good for you. You could do something fun with the girls and get some good exercise and movement training too. I promise I would never, never, mention your dress up activities or put you in any embarrassing situations."

Mom was reluctant, but I persisted. Finally she agreed that allowing me to do cheer was not out of line with contemporary parenting even though there had never been any boy cheerleaders at our particular school. Ms. Byland finally made the convincing argument to her.

"Carol, there are lots of cheer teams with boys on them, and most cheer competitions have coed divisions. There were several boys on the cheer squad with me in college so I know how to handle it. When the routine gets too girly you just have the boys move to the back and shout into the megaphones. I can always give McKenzie some substitute choreography if a dance routine involves too much hip movement."

Mom agreed but had real concerns. I was delighted and started looking forward to the summer break. Kaylie and Aunt Karen were totally enthusiastic.

"It will be fun to do something girly together. I promise I will not laugh at your wearing pants when the rest of us put on our cute short skirts."

"Kaylie, I asked you to be careful what you say, especially at school! Besides, cheer is athletic, not girly"

The first few days of cheer camp went well. Many of the girls were Kaylie's friends. I had been hanging out with them (as a boy) for years, so I fit right in with that crowd. There were a few other girls who were a bit uncomfortable with a boy doing the cheer exercises along with them, but most of them quickly got used to it. Brittany Benson was a hold out.

"Look, when cheerleaders perform in public the men and boys are way off in the distance. You were standing right behind me when we started that last routine, and your nose ended up inches from my butt when we all bent over."

Kaylie intervened. "Come on, McKenzie isn't like all horny around girls."

"Yeh, he hangs out with us all the time and is always well-behaved," added one of her friends.

After a few days of cheer camp some problems with my body quickly became apparent. Most of the girls had already started to develop wider hips and had the flexibility to do the splits. Some men can do the splits too, but it takes them a lot more time to work up to that much flexibility. My legs were always well off the ground and my back knee was bent when Ms. Byland asked us to drop down into splits.

The other body problem was that the and the anti-androgens prescribed by the clinic in California seemed to enhance the effects of all the lavender oil products I had been indulging in. The combination of suppressing testosterone and taking herbal estrogen-mimics had started to give me a noticeable amount of puffiness on my chest. Looking in the mirror I realized that this meant I looked a bit funny if I put on a really tight thin shirt. But, if I wore a loose shirt I tended to bounce a lot, and after several hours of running and jumping in cheer routines I developed definite irritation on my nipples. I was sort of embarrassed by this, but decided I could talk with Kaylie about anything.

"Well, wearing a sports bra like the rest of us would solve your problem."

"You know I can't do that!"

"OK, then wear two shirts. Put a really tight stretch bicycling shirt on first, then a loose t-shirt on over it. The bike shirt will tuck into your pants and not look like the support bra it is substituting as. The t-shirt will cover up your figure. "

Kaylie's suggestion worked. By the third week of cheer camp I was really getting into the routines and had memorized a lot of neat choreography. We were jogging back from the field for lunch when I noticed Gary Russica and Greg Coleman with a bunch of other boys at the edge of the field. Kaylie and I had taken extra time stretching at the end of the practice session and were lagging a little behind the rest of the girls.

"Let's catch up with the others."

Suddenly the crowd of boys had surrounded me and had pushed Kaylie aside. I looked around for help but the girls were heading through the gate toward the parking lot.

"Is McKenzie practicing to be a girl?"

"Let's teach McKenzie a cheerleader toss"

With that a couple of the boys grabbed me by the waist and violently threw me up into the air. Even though we had not advanced that far in the camp curriculum I knew that proper cheer tosses take preparation, coordination, timing, and are done with a spotter. As soon as my feet left the ground I knew I was in big trouble. I had been launched into an uncontrolled spin. I saw I was going to land head down just before I lost consciousness.

As I was being lifted into the ambulance I heard Ms. Byland say, "You will be all right. I called Dr. Coleman, and he will meet you at the hospital."

Coleman ... Coleman ... in my foggy brain I couldn't remember what that name meant to me.